Kurt Hummel, 2012 and me

You may remember last month I posted some eschatological graffiti. One of the things I like about graffiti is it can provide an element of serendipity which I find is on the decline the less I browse print publications, consuming instead information online. In the 2012 worldview, such serendipitous discoveries are considered synchronicities, the bleeding through of the psychic and physical realms that indicate the imminent Consciousness Shift.

So how about this. Last week I had a particularly vivid dream in which I was walking across a bridge that spanned the Maribyrnong River. Passing under the bridge on a barge and splattered in blue paint was Kurt from Glee. Go figure.

Here’s where the stars start to align. While I had never before walked across a bridge that spanned the Maribyrnong River, this morning I found myself doing exactly that. And as I disembarked the bridge and walked under it, what did I see stencilled on its supporting pillars? Not Kurt from Glee, but Kurt Cobain:

This is sufficiently synchronistic to be a clear message from the universe that I am to play a significant role in the unfolding 2012 narrative.

And it gets spookier still. Just as I went to Kurt-from-Glee’s Wikipedia page to source a link, I discover that in the image used of him there he is wearing clothing that appears to be splattered with blue paint:

OMG: let the Messianic Turn begin! I should start giving darshan immediately, and will begin with renaming my house Temple of the Western Light. With the Dalai Lama now becoming a judge on MasterChef (seriously!) there is a clear need for sincere spiritual leadership, not just in Melbourne’s western suburbs, but beyond.

3 thoughts on “Kurt Hummel, 2012 and me

    1. It had occurred to me that Temple of the Western Light might come with a small but perfectly formed band of Sister Wives. However, I was recently given an insight into what this might be like during a craft group at the Gelfer Compound comprising six Gen-X mothers and an unknown number of children. It seems my natural role in this scenario is to be in self-imposed exile in the computer room, only to emerge to find all that remains of those lovely-looking cakes are crumbs. Must be how Bill Henrickson felt before he was … (I know people outside of the US who still haven’t made it to the last episode).

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